Amaranthine
by Mishanoke
Summary: Posting revised version. Van swears protection over two strange women within his castle. One is taken by Dilandau, the other witnesses death and carnage as another war is begun--Folken's attempt at world domination through the use of five, summoned Drac
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne, nor its characters. I do own plot twists, characters of my design, and the souls of friends whom I have stolen to make this work possible. My ideas are copyrighted. No touchy.

"…" = speaking

~…~ = thinking/italicized 

am'a-ran'thine: an imaginary flower that never fades

****

Part One: Beginnings of a Future

Chapter One: Starting Over.

The dripping of water echoed off the damp walls as it slowly slipped through air, splattering across rough stone. Even softer than that was the sound of ragged breathing, and then the silent grip of ice. A glimmer of light appeared, a sliver of hope barred away behind the cell door.

It took the girl a moment to get her bearings as she lie there, shivering in the cold. Struggling to sit up, she blinked, her eyes dilating in the death-like darkness. Instantly she knew she was alone. Something had gone wrong.

Summoning memories back to her muddled mind, she pictured the silhouette, black against a wall of flame. Nothing came before it. She sought frantically for something to grab on to. Where was she?

A loud crack was heard, making her jump in fright. The bolt in the door behind her was drawn back, light piercing her surroundings and temporarily blinding her. Suddenly he was there, a black silhouette against a wall of flame.

"Name," the man demanded, his features still obscured.

"I--" her voice cracked as she shielded her eyes. Feeling helpless and trapped, she scooted back until she hit against the wall.

"Name," he ordered, stepping into the cell.

She could see his silver hair and burning red eyes. She caught sight of the sword belted around his waist. She knew him, didn't she? "Dilandau," she whispered.

"Yours, not mine," he snapped.

Blackness swirled within her mind. Only his image stuck long enough for her to see. Staring down at her hands, she fought for her own identity. And it slowly came.

"Kosmos," she said softly, fear radiating from her as she watched the man come closer.

"Where are you from?"

She hesitated, but then murmured, "I don't remember."

"Don't toy with me, little girl. I have very little patience." Dilandau's eyes gleamed a dark mahogany.

"Wait, really, I don't know. I don't know who you are. I don't know where I am," Kosmos spoke quickly, almost pitifully. Her hand brushed against the ground as she tried to stand, silver rings scraping across rough stone. She knew he was watching her as her knees buckled under her and she fell back against the wall, gasping in pain. Sliding to the floor, she felt tears coming to her eyes. Gingerly she reached up and touched the long gash down the side of her head, cutting through her brown hair in a swath of crimson.

Silent, he watched her. Stared at her for so long, she looked up at him with those horribly innocent, hazel-blue eyes. A child within his grasp. 

Letting his hand drop from his hip, he turned, ignoring the frightened whimper emitted from the girl. There had to be a reason he had taken her. Impulse, perhaps. Or something else entirely? It seemed she was somehow tied to the man he wanted dead. 

Biting the edge of his lip in contemplation, he strode out the door, ignoring the creak of the bolt being put back into place. Something was wrong with her. Better judgment told him to leave it alone. 

To hell with conscience. 

"You there!" he barked. The guard passing by halted, immediately coming to attention. Dilandau smirked in satisfaction as he gave his orders, "Get Doctor Merriam down here." 

***

Raindrops fell in scattered patterns, grays clouds overhead weighing down upon the crowd gathered upon what had once been acres of field. Now wheat had been replaced with crosses, stark white against the dusty ground. Some had faded, paint peeling and chipping, mixing with the dirt covering the graves. But others shone with a luster of empty beauty, freshly painted for this occasion.

~What a day for a funeral…~ The despairing thought quivered within the redhead's mind as she stood there, witnessing the last three graves being covered. Amber eyes trained upon the endless pile of flowers growing, she barely felt the man by her side shift closer. 

"It was my fault," the voice was quiet but not ashamed. Time had tortured the youth into acceptance of the grief he caused. It was his duty to take blame where it was dealt, remove it from the shoulders of his people. Six months of fighting and a year of aftermath had made him into a king. The youngest king Fanelia had ever seen, yet the one they so willingly followed, even to the doors of death. 

Shaking her head, Kari turned away from the men and women who had begun to mourn. "You tried," she told him softly. "And that is what they care about."

"You've only been here two weeks. How could you say that?" Van met her gaze, questioning, yet calm. "I was unable to protect your friend. Such a loss is not easily forgiven."

Two weeks? Within that time, Fanelia had been thrown into another war and the casualties 

mounted with every day. A war started by the king's very own brother. A man who had once been happy with such simple things, who lost himself to greed for power. A man that placed no value upon his family.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The kingdom was burning. The construction nearly complete after a year of hard work was destroyed. Hope was burning with that wood. 

And then Kosmos had been taken--

"You promised you would help me get her back. Isn't that enough?" Kari asked softly, the chill wind playing with the tips of her long, auburn hair. 

"Van-sama…" There was a pitiful whine as a girl appeared, clinging desperately to her best friend's arm. Her golden-orange ears drooped, her pink hair plastered to the sides of her furry face. A tail whipped at the air in annoyance before wrapping tightly around her legs. The cold easily pierced her orange jumper, the fur cuffs soggy and uncomfortable. Cats weren't meant to be wet.

Sighing softly, Van slipped out of her grasp and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "We'll go back soon, okay, Merle?" The girl nodded miserably.

Van let his eyes wander back to Kari once more. A stranger in his land, in this world. Pained memories haunted him as he remembered another woman that had come to him almost two years earlier. A woman who had changed his life entirely, and then had gone home to the world she couldn't leave. Now another. Another to haunt him, to chastise him, to support him, to reproach him. Another to win his heart and break it, crushing it for the last time. 

He had promised never to let it happen again. His whole life was made of broken promises.

The Mystic Moon. A place of nightmares that created his dreams. 

Following Kari's gaze, he watched bitterly as men and women, friends of his and others he could not name, fell back from the graves, tears coursing down their cheeks. They had laid to rest so many willing to die for their country, those who fought bravely against impossible odds. And so many were still out there, trying to sleep in this storm, taking shelter beneath crude shelters, eating what little they had.

~This isn't the end…~ his mind whispered softly,_ ~many more will die before this is through…~_

***

"She has amnesia." The diagnosis was made easily enough. 

"You are sure of this?" the wary question mirrored the look within the man's eyes. He needed to know what limits were present and where he had free reign.

Deft hands finished placing scissors and needles, cloth and thread back within the small bag the woman carried. She straightened, flickering her blond hair over her shoulder, then turned to face the stony gaze fixated upon her. "Yes, Lord Dilandau," she replied smoothly, "The blow she received to her head must have shaken her up a bit."

A glint appeared in his eyes. "Is it permanent?"

"I can't tell." Merriam shrugged, bending and retrieving her bag from the dirty floor. "It might be, it might not. It all depends." She shifted, impatient to be back in the medical wing. Places like these, the dungeon cells, made her edgy. "The stitches should be able to be removed in a week. I'll be back to check on her then," she stated. 

Dilandau let his head turn thoughtfully, looking down upon the girl asleep near the back of the dingy room. The doctor had drugged her into a good, deep sleep, covering her with a warm blanket after stitching the deep gash up the best that she could. What use would this girl be to him? With only a name for a starting point… It was like she was living her life all over again.

The doctor slipped away, leaving the door open a crack, light spilling into the dark, cold cell. He didn't notice her absence, though. His thoughts drew him deeper into plots of murder and subterfuge. "Hmmm… Kosmos…" As he thought, a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew what he could do. 

***

Light poured in through the window, eliciting a groan from the woman lying in a pile of blanket. Muttering a death threat at the disturbance of her sleep, Kosmos shifted her arm to cover her eyes. Shielded from the glare, she slowly opened one eye, then the other, blinking sleepily at her surroundings. For a second, she couldn't place anything. Terror immediately gripped her, her heart rate skyrocketing as she sat up, tangling herself even more in the mess of gray fleece wrapped around her. 

The last thing she remembered was seeing that needle glowing in the dark, hearing firm words telling her to sit still. Coldness and fear had permeated that place. 

Shifting slightly, she tentatively prodded the soft bed underneath her. It felt real enough. The blanket was warm, or so she thought. The sun was shining through the large window off to the side of a dresser, wasn't it? 

The change of setting confused her. And confusion only made her anxiety worse. 

Grabbing the edges of the blanket, she pulled it tightly around her for a moment. The feeling of safety only lasted a moment. Her expression was torn into one of dread as she faced the tough decision to leave the bed and investigate farther into the small expanse of empty space. 

Bare feet finding the floor, she pushed herself up and stood there for a moment, a wave of dizziness washing over her. A dull throb spread across the left side of her head and only then did she remember the wound that the woman had told her she was going to sew up. Quietly she moved forward, placing her steps with care.

A chair rested under the window, a gentle breeze stirring the curtains that had been pulled back. Reaching out, she retrieved the small metal framework that rested upon a small stack of clothes. Slipping the glasses on, everything came into focus. Looking out the window once, she staggered back a step. She couldn't see anything but cloud. A misty fog hovered far below, but that was it. 

A knock at the door caused her to jump. 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she stood there as the metal door was retracted into the wall, sliding along a greased track. "You!" she exclaimed, recognizing the silver-haired man easily. He looked even paler in the light, his skin almost white. 

Without hesitation, the man stepped inside. He stopped a few feet from her, folding both arms and letting them rest against his chest. "I have an offer to make you, Kosmos," he stated bluntly. He wasn't one to dodge an issue.

"Yes?" she questioned softly, forced to look up to meet his eyes. He towered over her, his height blatantly intimidating. Subconsciously she fell back a step.

Arching a slim eyebrow, he looked her up and down. She still wore the torn and bloodstained clothes from the night before. "I would like to extend an invitation for you to become a Dragonslayer and fight with us," he kept it simple. One thing at a time.

Kosmos blinked a few times, not quite understanding what the man was saying. What was he talking about? Hesitating, she asked, "A Dragonslayer? What is that?" The man seemed to be one that held thinning patience and didn't enjoy answering stupid questions. But it wasn't a stupid question for her; she really didn't know.

Dilandau relaxed his arms and let one hand hang while the other rested upon his hip. "A Dragonslayer is a fighter directly under my control. There are only an elite few that make it to my platoon."

Glancing sharply at him, Kosmos checked to make sure he was serious. "Fight? With what?"

Biting back a sarcastic reply of irritation, he forced himself to explain as patiently as possible, "Any numerous weapon, mostly the katana, and also with guymelefs. They are large fighting machines piloted from within their metal framework, understand?" He waited for a moment to let that information sink in. She nodded after a moment and he was able to continue, "You have no home, no family, no friends. All you have is your name. All you need to become a Dragonslayer _is_ your name." 

"But--" 

Dilandau wouldn't let her cut in. "Let me finish," he snapped with a hiss. She immediately went silent. "Here, in Zaibach, you could create a whole new life. Almost all of the young men in my platoon come from undesirable backgrounds and wish to start over with a new beginning. I'm offering the same opportunity for you."

Kosmos lost herself in her thoughts for a moment. He was right. She didn't have any clue where she had come from or where she was going. Memories of the night before were flooding back to her, the only memories she had beside the name that seemed to have come floating out of oblivion. It was as if she had been abandoned in a time glitch. She was living a life she wasn't supposed to be living but had no other choice but to live. 

Once the choice was made, an easily won smile appeared on her lips, her eyes flickering brightly. Bowing slightly, she said with some respect, "My lord, Dilandau, I would be honored to be one of the Dragonslayers." Not allowing herself to think of the burdens she was shouldering, she took the title upon herself, adding it to her name.

Dilandau nodded in approval as he quietly praised her, the last time he would do so, "Wise decision, Kosmos. Very wise. We will train you in our ways, dress you in our uniforms, and teach you our codes. This is your home now. You never had one before, and you will never have another home besides this one again, got that?"

"Where I am, now I live. No place else." There was no regret when she said this. No longing for anything else. After all, she was forgetting about a home she didn't remember existing in the first place.

"Change into those clothes behind you, then meet me at the end of the hall. I'll introduce you to the other Dragonslayers."

A sense of belonging came over Kosmos as she agreed to do so. She was no longer a vagabond with nothing shaping her life. A black silhouette against a wall of flame. 

Her destiny, she decided.


	2. Into the Shadows

Disclaimer: If I owned Escaflowne, why would I be writing fan fiction on it? O.o

Hiya all! ;_; Sorry for longer wait that it normally would be but with AP test season crushing every fiber of my being into flour for bread I haven't been able to do much. Promise that as soon as tests are over I will be updating more frequently. I love revising. 

To Kriyn Dake: Thank you so much for your review! It means the world to me, really, honestly, truthfully, completely. I'm so glad that you want to know more of the plot. I'm so excited! I'm glad that Kari and Kosmos are fitting in well. I was worried because in my first version of Amaranthine, they didn't. That's why I revised it. ^_^ Thank you so much for the note for improvement. I'm definitely going to go back and change that so that it sounds better without the overemphasis. Once again, thank you so much. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

To all others: I know you're out there. I know it. Cause evidently I have ghost reviews floating around that fanfiction.net is not letting me have. But as soon as ff.net starts cooperating and giving into my demands that it bow to my every command and worship the ground I walk upon I will get a reply to you. Love you all!

"…" = speaking

~…~ = thinking

*edited* = a wonder censor for unappreciated language

Chapter Two: Into the Shadows. 

The quiet scratch of quill against parchment made the room feel more oppressed than ever. Even the air was hard to breathe, a dark cloud brooding over all. Staring at the plate of food graciously placed before her, Kari felt nauseous, even the smell wafting from the eggs more than she could handle. Pushing the dish away, she slouched down in the uncomfortable chair, letting her gaze drift to the man at the head of the table.

A small sigh escaped her lips. Van looked tired and irritated with dark circles under his eyes and hair an untamed mop of black that fell into his eyes every time he leaned forward. She watched him trace a thin black line across the map spread before him. The next battle plan was being drawn up as the king sought for a better strategy. If one wasn't found, Zaibach would overwhelm them with just their numbers and sheer force. No wonder Van hadn't slept…

Merle's tail swished slowly back and forth behind her, the tip brushing against the ground. Sitting across from the redhead, she took it as an opportunity to study the curious woman without drawing her attention. Hatred for her had ebbed away a little every day, till now, when she looked at her, she felt only sorrow. She knew what it felt like to have a loved one torn away from her, thrown into danger, without hope of coming out alive. 

Hand slipping from her lap, she reached up and clasped the nail file hanging around her neck. Holding her breath, her body went tense, hackles rising. Was she… was she actually _worried_ about Kari? Hissing under her breath, her eyes narrowed. Just because one of the other creatures from the Mystic Moon was gone didn't mean she had a right to stop hating them. They were only here to take Van away from her. Just like Hitomi had. She had let Hitomi break Lord Van's heart and she wouldn't let it happen again. Lord Van deserved happiness, not misery. 

"Sire," the voice shattered the tense stillness. Everyone looked up, distracted for a moment from their inner turmoil. The man standing in the doorway slowly continued when he saw he had the king's attention, "The council has gathered and is awaiting your presence." 

The quill was placed back into its holder, the cap of the inkbottle closed. Nodding solemnly, Van stood, collecting the scrolls and papers scattered before him. Noting that those gathered around the table were watching, he grew paler under the pressure he knew rested upon his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the door and followed the man waiting for him out of the room.

Merle's ears drooped as she mourned his departure. He wouldn't let her go with him this time. With a quiet, distraught meow, she went back to her breakfast.

***

"Folken! Asturia's sending in troops and supplies!"

"I know." 

The man's gaze was riveted to the end of the hallway, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of stone. Light glinted off his gold earrings as they passed under another torch, the patch of light quickly fading into shadow once more. He could feel Dilandau's aura vibrating with anger. Letting silence weigh upon them, he purposefully kept him waiting for something more to be said. 

Dilandau let his hand stroke the sword slapping against his leg with each step taken. The scar along his cheek burned with dark memories, easily taking away all logical thinking. His fingers itched for his guymelef, for blood and slaughter. There was only one man keeping him from it.

"We can't let Fanelia get help!" he ranted loudly, the words echoing in the empty hall. "We have to take out the country in one crippling blow!"

Folken's head snapped towards the irrational youth. His calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by a bone-chilling glare. "You burned half the castle and killed numerous people in your rampage of the city," he accused sharply.

"So?"

He frowned darkly at the impetuous seventeen-year-old, but stayed silent. A couple of seconds later, he stopped in front of a plain, black door. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he waited. With a sniff, Dilandau looked away. Quickly Folken typed a code into the keypad. A soft hiss was heard as the lock was released and the door swished open.

A thoughtful look flitted across his features and he paused. "Where is she now?" 

Dilandau snapped back to attention. Furrowing his brow, his confusion at the switch of topics was clear. "Who?"

"The girl."

"Oh, you mean _her_." A light smirk tugged at the corners of his lips at the thought of the girl clothed in Dragonslayer blue and black."Down with the other Dragonslayers."

"Tell me, Dilandau," Folken asked with faint interest, "What was the purpose for bringing her here again?"

Crimson eyes smoldered as the youth gently stroked his cheek, "I suppose she can do for a hostage. _Fanelia_ did seem to care about her."

"Hmmm…" An idea was forming within his mind. Things were slowly fitting into place. The girl was only another piece to the puzzle. Folken's response was distant, off in another dimension, "I'll speak to her when I have time and see if I can find out anything useful."

For once Dilandau found it intriguing that the Emperor would take interest in a simple prisoner. He cut through the air with a pointless gesture. "I can do that, if you wish, Strategos. You are already busy with matters concerning the sorcerers."

Folken tilted his head slightly, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "You aren't planning on killing her, are you?"

"What gave you _that_ idea, Strategos?" Dilandau stated innocently with a wave of his hand as he walked past him. "Don't worry about her. She'll be perfectly fine."

Hawk eyes glittering, Folken watched the young man disappear into the shadows. Something gnawed in corner of his mind, warning him not to trust the false assurances. He would have to keep a close eye on that boy. 

With a quiet swish of his cloak, he entered into the brightly lit hallway. Soundlessly the door closed behind him, the locking mechanisms snapping into place. The silence of the place gave him fair warning. He was late. The sorcerers were expecting him.

***

"Gaddes, turn her 23 degrees west!" the man's voice rang clearly across the deck of the Crusade. With eyes focused on the horizon, Allen steadied himself against the turbulence that suddenly rocked the leviship. Rays of sun caught on the large windows, blinding him for a moment from the view of rustic Fanelia. 

"Sure thing, Commander!" Gaddes grabbed the wheel, jerking it down. The ship veered left, straight across Fanelian borders.

Something was wrong. Allen could find no sign of the Zaibachian fortress. Everything was quiet… too quiet. It seemed unnatural. ~_What are they up to?~_ Words distinctly sharp, he called up to the higher level, "Pyle, keep a lookout!" 

"Yes, Sir!"

Throwing caution to the winds, the knight had the Crusade continue on. They had to make it in. If entrance was successful, he would radio the Letilan, the leviship waiting back within Castelo Fort. They would report to Dryden, who would then, as promised, send in Asturian reinforcements. 

Shouts were heard as the ship groaned and strained against something caught in the sails. Wood bent and snapped, canvas ripped and fluttered in the harsh wind. A bout of foul language rent the air, directed towards Gaddes who had piloted them too low. 

"Pull up, *edited* fool!" 

"Get out of the trees!"

"Now!" 

Allen waited a moment for tempers to cool and the ship to rise higher, then spoke out. "Watch our position, Gaddes." Unlike the others, there was no irritation in his voice. To err was human. And they were all, definitely, human. 

After a moment the Crusade leveled out and they were once again flying smoothly over the tops of the trees. All members of the crew kept one eye and ear on their duties and then the other on their surroundings. Like their boss, they were all cautious and wary. When it came to Zaibach anything was possible, unfortunately.

A couple hours later the crew let out a hearty cheer when they landed safely in Fanelia's docking square. Only Allen and Gaddes looked around suspiciously. Zaibach was planning something; that could be the only explanation for the Crusade making it past the small mountain range. 

"What are you up to, Folken?" Allen whispered as the owl on his shoulder opened one glowing, amber orb.

Natal lifted into the air, spreading his wings with a shrill cry as he began to circle overhead. 

The crew instantly went to work on tying down the leviship, making it stationary. While they were absorbed by their work, Allen started for the small group of people that had entered the docking square. Most were older men and a few samurai, but in their midst was a raven-haired youth that stepped forward as soon as he saw the man heading towards him.

"Allen, thank you for coming," Van greeted the tall, blond knight with relief, meeting him halfway across the square. For once he was actually glad to see Allen in his country.

"It's good to see you again, Van." The man addressed smiled and bowed slightly. "You've grown taller, I see."

Van shrugged, noting that Allen still towered over him, despite his growth of a few inches. "A lot of things change in a year," he responded lightly. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the matter and then took on a serious air. "Listen, I need your help with a plan against Zaibach."

Allen nodded. "We're here to help."

***

Kari had been following Merle around all day in a melancholy mood, much to the annoyance of the catgirl. She still couldn't believe that Kosmos was actually gone. It just didn't seem possible. Every moment felt like she would awaken from the dream. That's all it was, wasn't it? A dream she had wanted so badly to come true, to get her away from the monotonous life she had lived for so long. Now she was here, in a strange country, in a strange world filled with strange people and her friend being held captive by Zaibach. Not the romantic adventure she had read about and longed for.

Looking up, Kari realized they were once again in the dining hall. Time had gone by quickly after all. Maybe lunch would take her mind off everything, even if for a few moments. Following the bouncing catgirl to the table, she took a seat. The food was already set out. Were they expecting someone else? Her heart leapt as an image of the raven-haired king jumped to her mind. 

And as if the gods had heard her wish, he stepped through the doorway, deep in conversation. 

"No, Allen," Van growled, shaking his head. 

"Van, the past is the past. This is the future of your country!"

"If you're going to argue, Allen, I suggest you leave." With a sigh of disgust, Van turned and faced the knight directly. "I do not have the time, nor the energy, to deal with your arguing."

Allen glanced past him, noticing for the first time the two women sitting at the table amidst the gathering of councilors. Slim eyebrows raised a little in surprise. "A visitor?" he inquired, letting go of their previous argument. There was still time to go back to it and convince Van of his foolishness.

Van shot him a piercing look as he laid a hand on the man's arm, gripping it tightly. "You're to leave her alone," he hissed.

"Red hair? Quite uncommon, I must say. Is she a courtier?" 

Kari heard them discussing her, but she remained quiet, picking at the food placed before her. 

"Keep your distance, Allen."

"She is a lovely lady--"

A faint blush crept into her pale cheeks.

"I didn't know you were courting, Van--"

She grew redder, this time from embarrassment. 

"I'm not." 

Kari flinched at the coldness of Van's voice. Thinking things couldn't get any worse, she nearly collapsed when a flash of blond hair was seen and the knight was at her side, bowing. Her fork clattered against china as it fell from her limp hand. Automatically her head turned and she found herself captivated by the deep blue eyes staring into her own. 

"Allen Schezar," he spoke softly, his voice rising and falling in vibrant cadences, "At your service, milady." 

***

The soft hum of machinery was heard throughout the rooms that occupied the locked-away level of the fortress. This was the sorcerers' dwelling place. Their humble abode as they called it. They lived, slept, ate, and experimented here, never leaving unless on a matter of business concerning their experiments. They enjoyed nobody else's company besides their own and that of the Emperor of Zaibach. He had been hated once, when he had left to become Strategos, a man with power higher than their own. Once they had been content as lowlife, but they wished for something greater now. That is why they allowed him back into their midst. Now as Emperor, Folken promised them the power that they so desired. They had an agreement with him in exchange for accepting him back into their field of study and work. He proved a valuable partner to have during experiments. His knowledge of science and mathematics was bordering upon genius, incredible and highly useful in many things.

"Subject four died this morning, Lord Folken," came the sorcerer's pitchy voice. 

Together the two men walked through the medically oriented rooms. 

"Was it the new mixture?" Folken asked without looking over at the man by his side.

"Yes," was the displeased response, "But we found the problem. We lowered the level of siltrate and it seems to be working in the two we tested it on." The black-cloaked man handed Folken a stack of paper with statistics printed neatly across them. Without another word, he lead him into a room filled with metallic tables. Almost every one of them was occupied by a creature of some sort or another, the last three being humans. 

"I'm sorry I don't spend more time here," Folken apologized to the man, checking compounds as he passed by each labeled experiment. 

"We know, Strategos, that you are fully occupied with this war. There is plenty of time for you to rejoin us later on when you have more time."

He nodded, flexing his synthetic hand absent-mindedly. "Report to me if there are any improvements."

"Of course, Lord Folken."

Once again the two continued on, passing through another door. White walls reflected dim light from the flickering lamps at the end of the room they had entered. A man looked up, then went back to his work monitoring a machine hooked up to the only table in there. The woman lying upon the table appeared as an apparition, fading in and out of existence with the lights. 

"How is she?" Folken questioned, his eyes never leaving the sleeping figure.

"Fairly well," the sorcerer replied, gesturing over towards her. "We have her hooked up on dream processing. So far we've been able to keep her in the transitional state, but I do not know how long that will last. She is stubborn, my lord."

"Of course she would be." Turning, he faced the man at his side. "Let me know if anything new is discovered. I have other matters that need attending to at this time, if you'll pardon my departure."

"Yes, Lord Folken." The sorcerer nodded and then moved away like a shadow, melting into the shadowed corner of the room. Another sorcerer glided over to him and they began conversing in quiet tones, discussing a piece of paper held between them.

The towering, teal-haired man cast a foreboding shadow upon the floor as he turned his back on the men. A legend lie there on that table. There were suspicions of Dilandau's prisoner. Three left to find. Five to conquer. And then the world would be his.


End file.
